


Deceived Deceptions

by oyhumbug



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, F/M, Romance, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-18
Updated: 2010-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 02:57:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1452880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oyhumbug/pseuds/oyhumbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy might not be the slayer, but that doesn't mean she's not just as crafty, just as dangerous, just as deadly. Working as a secret operative, she sets her sights on Angel Investigations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deceived Deceptions

**Author's Note:**

> Previously posted on fanfiction.net, LJ (oy_humbug2), and my own site (Delicious Infatuation).

**Deceived Deception  
** **A One Shot**

Two weeks.  
  
She had two weeks to research, meet, and then deal with her targets. It was plenty of time. Despite her young age, she was quite capable. In fact, she was the best. Although never expressly stated, the fact that she had been sent on this mission alone – without backup, without complicit instructions, and trusted enough to carry out her assignment without interference told Buffy everything she needed to know. And it wasn’t just because her father was her boss. No, Ripper Giles was certainly not a man who would put nepotism before his life’s work. Rather, because she was his daughter, he pushed her harder, expected more, demanded that she be even better than the best. And she delivered. No one could argue with that, not even her competition.  
  
Entering the twenty-four hour café, Buffy ignored the other insomniac patrons. They didn’t concern her. Though several of them sent curious glances in her direction, she simply pretended that she wasn’t aware of their attention. After all, they didn’t need to know how hypersensitive she was to any slight shift in her surroundings, that her body was so attuned to studying others that she could tell just by looking at them what they were thinking, feeling, wanting, and hiding from. Maybe, if she had been in L.A. on vacation, she would have taken the time to ponder the strangers, but she wasn’t, and she had more important things to think about. To be more precise, she had _four_ more important things on her travel weary yet impossibly alert mind.  
  
After ordering both a large, strong, black coffee and a mug of tea, she took a seat at an empty table. It was strategically placed, providing her with both a view of the shop and the dark, deserted street outside, for it was no coincidence that she had picked that specific café. In fact, its location was nowhere near either the airport in which she had just come from or the hotel in which she would be staying at while in Los Angeles. However, it just so happened to be less than a block away from the building in which all four of her objectives worked. From her vantage point, she would be able to see anyone coming or going from the agency. Granted, it was still quite early. There was, at least, two hours left before sunrise, but Buffy had learned long ago that, when she was on a mission, it benefited her immensely to immerse herself as much as she possibly could in the lifestyles of her marks.  
  
It only took twenty minutes for her carefully planned out decision to reward her. With what could only be described as a cocky, self-satisfied smirk kept carefully hidden behind the nearly empty cup of tea she held in her small yet skilled hands, the talented twenty-something watched as someone left the building she was watching and jogged across the street, stopping to enter the very same establishment she herself was patronizing. Although their movements would suggest a mild sense of urgency, she could tell that the man had moved so swiftly simply because he could.  
  
Appraising him with both a professional eye and that of woman, she found him quite sufficient in both regards. While his actions were almost imperceptible, she noted that he, too, took in his surroundings at once upon entering the coffee bar. Scanning the room, the imposing figure calculated the risks, gauged those close enough to him to do harm, and only after he recognized that he was safe did he make his way towards the counter. And he was, safe that is. Her respect for him didn’t diminish simply because he hadn’t immediately detected her ruse. The fact was that she didn’t want him to know that she was anything more than just another night owl needing a caffeine boost. Besides, in that moment, she wasn’t really Buffy Summers Giles, covert agent; she was simply a normal girl in a café drinking a cup of tea.  
  
Physically speaking, he didn’t disappoint either. The quintessential dangerous man, her first target spotted was tall, dark, and handsome, but she didn’t feel at all like he was a cliché. His hair was just a little too messy, his posture too understated to be conceited, and his manners while addressing the cashier too polite to speak of a man intent upon using his looks to bring women to their knees. In fact, studying him furtively, the blonde had to admit that he was wonderfully full of contradictions, and, despite the fact that he was her quarry, she was intrigued by him. And, apparently, the feeling was mutual.  
  
Before he made it to the door which would carry him back out into the night, back out into the shadows where he, no doubt, felt more comfortable, her target spotted her, and, after waging what appeared to be an internal battle and losing quite easily, he approached her table, took a seat, and didn’t even pretend to be interested in whether or not she wanted him to sit down. She immediately liked that about him – his initiative. Normal men bored her, and a normal man would have said something ridiculous like ‘is this seat taken’ when, obviously, she was very much alone. Instead, the stranger just smirked, set his bag of muffins aside, food, no doubt, for his employees, and made himself comfortable.  
  
“Hello.”  
  
His greeting was softly spoken, generous in both warmth and spirit. It made her feel as if they had always known each other, but, yet, at the same time, the slight elevation in pitch that his voice displayed as he finished the two syllable word told Buffy the statement was also a silently posed question. What he was asking her, though, she didn’t know. But she wouldn’t inquire towards his query either. If her mark wanted to play it cool, she would provide him with a lesson on unflappable poise.  
  
“I charge for my time,” the petite blonde warned. When the man across from her simply raised a dark brow in question, she leaned forward and folded her arms in front of her on the table. Although just slight, his actions told her that he was already intrigued if not slightly wary as well. Expounding upon her statement, she said, “a muffin in exchange for a conversation, please.”  
  
This time, he smiled. “Pick your pleasure: apple cinnamon or banana nut.”  
  
Neither of them moved towards the brown paper bag. Despite the fact that her options were so seemingly benign at first glance, their already short interaction was so laced with double entrendres, she knew her answer would determine the outcome of their somewhat chance first meeting. So, eventually, instead of replying, she simply lobbed the ball back into his court. “What do you think I want?”  
  
He studied her for several intense moments, and, despite her best efforts to meet his gaze without blinking, without reaction, Buffy felt her face heat and inflame with a soft, pretty blush. His chocolate eyes were just too intent upon her, too covetous towards her for her not to respond. Upon seeing her display, he grinned lasciviously, appreciatively before reaching into his bag and pulling out a muffin. Depositing it ceremoniously before her on a napkin, her target reclined back in his seat and explained his choice.  
  
“Apple cinnamon, for several reasons,” he started. “For one, it’s tart, sweet, and spicy, three tastes I’m almost positive we both appreciate, and, two, well, personally, I’ve always been a fan of the original sin.”  
  
“Is that a fact,” Buffy practically purred. “Well, then, I guess there’s just one more thing I need to know about you.”  
  
Teasingly, he queried, “what, my name?”  
  
“No, the cashier called you Angel before. I already know who you are.” And she did, but not for the reason she just gave him.  
  
“I thought I felt someone’s eyes on me. Unfortunately, though, I wasn’t here early enough to hear her address you.”  
  
“She didn’t. I’m not a regular customer here.” With that, she left the subject behind. Though she would eventually tell him her name, and she would use her real one, for she always did with her quarries, she didn’t want to end the suspense… yet. Returning to their previous topic, she posed, “rather than your name, what I want to know is this: when you say that you’re a fan of the original sin, are you just a spectator enthusiast, or do you like to join in the fun sometimes as well?”  
  
Her answer was the four words she had been dying to hear since she first laid eyes on him. “Your place or mine?”  
  
Again, she didn’t actually respond. Standing up, she simply held out her hand and pulled him along with her, out of the café’s doors and into the inky blackness of the pre-dawn. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear a rooster crowing. It was an incongruous sound for such a large, sprawling city such as L.A., but the imagery, considering the man strutting beside her, felt appropriate.

_Sea lion woman_  
She drink coffee  
Sea lion woman  
She drink tea  
And a rooster crows  
  
Sea lion woman  
She drink coffee  
She drink tea  
And a rooster crows

There was nothing like a man’s shirt to make a woman feel sexier. Stretching wantonly in Angel’s large bed, his black silk sheets sliding deliciously across her bare, smooth legs, Buffy smiled contentedly. Her body felt agreeably numb with residue pleasure, and the few hours of rest she had managed to sneak in between rounds of sex with her mark left her feeling refreshed and ready for whatever the day would bring her… or whatever she would bring to her day.  
  
“You look good in red,” a sleepy yet fulfilled voice murmured huskily beside her before pulling her back into his cool embrace. She went willingly, savoring their last few moments together before Angel would succumb to both the exhaustion their actions had brought him and the nature of his being.  
  
“And how do I look in nothing,” she teased, but there was a point to her questioning.  
  
Grinning like a little boy on Christmas morning… or how she would imagine a little boy would grin on Christmas morning, for Buffy was an only child and, thankfully, had no children of her own, her target replied, “even better.” There was no mistaking the sincerity present in his tone.  
  
Uncurling herself from his clinch, she taunted, “well, then, I hope your shower appreciates the view.”  
  
“Are you coming back to bed afterwards?”  
  
“Nope, I’m leaving.”  
  
As soon as the words left her still kiss swollen mouth, he shot up, the sheets falling to pool decadently upon his otherwise bare lap. “What?”  
  
“While I might be here on a trip, Angel, it isn’t solely for pleasure.” Giving his gloriously nude body an admiring glance, she added, “no matter how tempting the idea... looks. I have work to do.”  
  
With that, she sauntered into the bathroom, making sure to drop his shirt before she disappeared behind the closed door.

_Sea lion woman_  
Dressed in red  
Smile at the man  
When you wake up in his bed

As she emerged from the still steamy en suite, dressed once again in her own clothes from the night before, Buffy observed the man before her who was desperately fighting against the call of sleep. She knew it was a losing battle, but she appreciated his gesture nonetheless. Sitting down on his side of the bed, close enough so that their bodies could touch between the distancing confines of her black jeans and his bedding, she put on her shoes.  
  
Finally, it was the naked man beside her who broke their comfortable silence. “I guess I should get ready for work, too, then.”  
  
“Or not,” she proposed, shrugging her shoulders lightly. While her mood hinted at anything but, she was desperate for her powers of suggestion to work. “Take the day off; give your employees a surprise, paid holiday.” He had told her enough about himself during their shared few hours in bed that she felt comfortable discussing his life with him that way. “I think you all deserve the break.”  
  
“And you?”  
  
“If you give me today to do what I have to do, I’ll be yours for the rest of the next two weeks,” Buffy promised him.  
  
Startling her, her quarry roughly pulled her over so that she was sitting upon and straddling his lap. Although he didn’t move to touch her further or to kiss her, she could tell just how much Angel was restraining himself and his urges. With nothing but perfect sincerity, he whispered, “I’m not sure that’ll be long enough.”  
  
She surprised herself by leaning forward to lightly nip at his lips. Pulling away before he could deepen the embrace, she winked at him and shared, “me either,” before scrabbling off the bed and running towards his bedroom door, letting herself out before anything else, anything more could be said between them.

_Sea lion woman_  
Dressed in black  
Wink at the man  
Then stab him in his back

This time, she found herself drinking in a bar… in a demon karaoke bar to be exact. Thanks to the dossiers she had received on each of her four marks, Buffy knew that one of Angel’s employees frequented the establishment quite often, so, on an innate instinct she had learned long before not to ignore, she had sought out the bleach blonde vampire at Caritas and was rewarded handsomely for her decision.  
  
Spike was already fairly plastered when she approached him at the bar and took the stool next to him. Quietly, she ordered – again - a large, strong, black coffee and a mug of tea. As she sipped her preferred beverages, she felt the eyes of the man beside her wash over her white sundress clad form with obvious interest and appreciation. For some men, there was just something almost undeniable about even the illusion of purity and innocence. It was a laughable thought, considering who and what the target beside her was, but the skilled twenty-something was not someone to look a gift horse in the mouth. If William the Bloody wanted himself a pretty little virgin, that’s exactly what she would give him, and the fact that she had Angel’s scent all over her, despite her shower, would just be added fuel to the already blazing fire.  
  
“So, you’re why I suddenly find myself enjoying a day off from work,” the British vamp opened a conversation between them. “I’d say thanks, but I’m really not that polite.”  
  
Stumbling over her words on purpose, Buffy nervously stated, “I don’t know what you mean.”  
  
“You shagged Peaches, probably a few times given how exhausted he sounded on the phone earlier, so he took the day off and told all of us not to come into work either.”  
  
She flushed beautifully and imbued her voice with just the precise amount of embarrassment and indignation. “I haven’t the faintest idea of what you are talking about, and I resent your assuming nature. I did nothing even close to what you are… suggesting.”  
  
“Oh, there’s no suggesting about it, sweetheart. I call ‘em the way I see ‘em.” When she just continued to glare at him, Spike fairly spat out the scotch he was attempting to drink. “Are you bloody serious,” he questioned, still sounding as though he didn’t believe her. “But you smell like the giant poof. I’d recognize that unfortunate odor from, at least, a kilometer away.”  
  
“If you are referring to Angel, yes, I spent some time with him this morning, but I certainly did not sleep with him. While he might have tried to pick me up, I simply told him that he was not my type.” With a long, meaningful glance, she stared into the blonde vampire’s eyes for several long beats.  
  
“That’s just bloody precious, my old grandsire getting turned down like that. Kind of wish I would have been there to see the brush off.” As if he just realized what her final words had implied, Spike swallowed thickly. When he spoke again, his voice had lost its naturally cocky nature. “And just what, exactly, or maybe I should say who exactly would be your type, love?”  
  
Casting her thick, dark lashes downward against the generous, dewy apples of her cheeks while laying a slightly trembling hand upon her quarry’s thigh, Buffy whispered, “I think you already know.” And, if she didn’t know better, she would have said that the man across from her fairly crowed with male pride and satisfaction at her remark. Everything was going perfectly to plan.

_Sea lion woman_  
She drink coffee  
She drink tea  
And a rooster crows

Quickly, her morning with Spike had progressed to the point where he was a puppet in her very capable hands. Although Buffy wasn’t sure if it was more his need to beat his boss or his attraction to her, she didn’t really care what motivated the bleach blonde; all that mattered was that, through her powers of persuasion, she had him exactly where she wanted him. By playing on the virginal role she had presented so easily, so competently at the bar, she convinced the vampire that she wouldn’t be with him, with any man, until she was married. Taking that ball and running with it, Spike had suggested they elope. It was what she had wanted him to say all along, and he had no idea he was playing so easily into her plans.  
  
She could have simply dusted him, she knew that. Many opportunities for such aggression had presented themselves to her that morning, but the covert agent preferred to play a role with each and every one of her marks. Whether elaborate or simple, she would put on a ruse and use it to distract her targets. While more time consuming, it was immensely more entertaining, and, besides, she had always been slightly creatively. Unlike her very scientific father, Buffy got that trait from her long deceased artist of a mother. Just as Joyce Summers Giles had enjoyed putting paint to canvas while she was still alive, her daughter preferred situational art. Life was her canvas, and her targets were the tools of her trade.  
  
So, that’s why she was there, with William, as he asked her to call him, in his apartment, still dressed in her pure, unblemished white sundress. They had foregone traditional wedding customs, and Spike had simply called for a judge to meet them at his apartment, one who would perform the ceremony and file their license at the same time. However, the petite blonde knew that there would be no wedding; there would be no paperwork filled out. In fact, by the time the judge arrived, there wouldn’t even be a groom.  
  
“How does a little pre-wedding toast sound,” she suggested, walking up to her _fiancé_ and handing him a glass filled to the brim with champagne. While her own contained sparking white grape juice, it only further played into her innocent role. “To a long life together,” she proposed, raising her glass in salute, “filled with many memorable and exciting moments.”  
  
“I’ll certainly drink to that, pet,” Spike agreed, knocking back his champagne in a single swallow… just as she had wanted him to. Immediately, his face twisted in distaste. “What the bloody hell? Where did you pick up that swill, the local convenience store? Ugh, talk about god awful…”  
  
“Actually, no,” Buffy contradicted him, interrupted him. “It’s a special vintage I bought just for you. Only the best for my William. And, oh,” she added, sounding suddenly contrite, “did I forget to mention that its special ingredient is holy water?” Laughing gaily, she joked, “silly me. I swear, weddings always go straight to my head. They make me so forgetful. It’s a good thing we decided to elope now, isn’t it?”  
  
Before the shocked vampire before her could respond, she took several steps back so that his disintegrating form wouldn’t tarnish her spotless dress, and, by the time the doorbell rang to announce the presence of the judge, her _fiancé_ was nothing more than a tiny pile of ash swept up and deposited into the nearest trash can. Fairly floating to the entrance, she greeted the older man who was there to marry her, a look of abject misery on her otherwise perfectly composed face.  
  
“I’m afraid there won’t be a wedding today, Your Honor. My groom has literally disappeared on me. But here,” she handed him his required fee plus a generous tip. “For all your trouble,” she explained the extra money.  
  
And, with that, she shut the door behind her, walked away, and left a speechless judge in her wake, the glass she had sipped her juice from safely tucked away in her purse. However, she had more important things to do than coddle the elected official; she had clothes to change, a new role to assume, and her third mark to meet… and all before lunch. After all, she had almost just gotten married. Surely, she deserved to order a piece of cake or two for her afternoon meal. And she would eat it as well, too.

_Sea lion woman_  
Dressed in white  
Marry the man  
And you'll spend a long sweet life

Confidently yet primly, she knocked on the door of the apartment before her. It didn’t take long for the single resident to greet her. At first, there was a slight note of annoyance on the young woman’s face, no doubt for being disturbed on her day off, but as soon as she covetously took in Buffy’s expensive, designer clothes, Cordelia Chase was as green with envy as the very dress the blonde wore. Her third quarry fairly sang with unconcealed interest and intrigue.  
  
“How may I help you,” the brunette asked, and she meant every word. For someone as obviously wealthy as Buffy was pretending to be, the brunette would do anything.  
  
“Actually, I think that I might be able to help you.” Handing her a card, her card that said that she was from an elite modeling agency, the covert agent continued. “I’m a talent scout, Miss Chase, and you caught my eye this afternoon while I was having lunch. You came in to pick up your takeout, and I…”  
  
“You were there,” Cordelia interrupted her. “And you noticed me?”  
  
“Everybody in that bistro noticed you, Miss Chase. Now, the question is, do you want that all the time but on a much more… international level?”  
  
“Hell yes!”  
  
“Excellent,” Buffy practically simpered. “Do you have any test shots I could take with me then?”  
  
“What,” Cordelia questioned, her enthusiasm wilting visibly. “No, I don’t,” she answered… just as she had wanted her to.  
  
“I was afraid of that. However, a good talent scout is always prepared.” Motioning towards a camera bag hanging off her shoulder, Buffy suggested, “why don’t you go and change into something decadent and stunning, while I set us up a little impromptu shoot in your living room?”  
  
“Are you serious? You are, aren’t you? I mean, this isn’t some sort of elaborate…?”  
  
“Miss Chase,” this time it was her turn to interject rudely. “The first rule of the fashion industry is to never make the client wait. Go change. Now.”  
  
Without further word, the brunette scurried off, and Buffy immediately set to work arranging the furniture how she wanted it. Pulling in a chair from the kitchen, she placed it underneath the main light fixture in the room. Afterwards, she strung a rope around the low hanging, contemporary chandelier, tying it into a noose once she was finished. After her work was complete, she simply waited, camera in hand. By the time Cordelia reappeared, she didn’t even give her a chance to react to the shoot’s setup before she explained.  
  
“You have a very high fashion, avant garde look. I want to play that up in these shots.”  
  
Practically squealing with excitement, her mark gladly took the chair and positioned the rope around her own neck. “I might not speak French, but I know what avant garde means. It means: ‘Hello, Paris! Here I come!’”  
  
Immediately, Buffy started clicking away. How was the brunette to know that there really wasn’t any film in her camera? Circling around her target, Buffy made the appropriate remarks, handing out both criticism and praise and making suggestions only a photographer would make. By the time she came to stand behind Cordelia’s chair, the other woman was completely in the moment and unaware of the danger she had so willingly placed herself in. With a confident, smug grin, Buffy then kicked out the brunette’s chair, and the camera’s noises were replaced with the sound of a neck snapping.  
  
Two down, one more to go…

_Sea lion woman_  
Dressed in green  
Silver lining and golden seams

She had learned at a young age that all men loved a damsel in distress. It didn’t matter how old they were, if they were single or married, childless or a father a dozen times over, they would come running to save and help a hapless female, and many, many times Buffy had put that particular weakness belonging to the opposite sex to her use. Wesley Wyndam Pryce would prove to be no different.  
  
Knocking on his closed apartment door, she had a smile plastered on her face when he opened the entrance to her. “I’m so sorry to bother you,” she said in way of a greeting, adding a slight southern accent to her voice. “But I just moved into the building, and, for some reason, I lost my power. I called the landlord, and he said I probably blew a fuse or something. I don’t know. Anyway, he’s out of town for the afternoon, but he said that you’re a real nice, helpful fellow and that I should come on down here and see if you’d be willing to take a look for me.”  
  
The dark haired, scruffy man who obviously hadn’t shaved in several days returned her warm grin. “It’d be my pleasure,” he agreed readily, without even the slightest hesitation. “Lead the way,” he added, as he ushered them both down the hall, softly closing his apartment door behind him.  
  
They walked together comfortably to the basement, taking the stairs just in case the blown fuse had shortened out the power to the elevator as well, and, as they made their way down the several flights, they conversed companionably, her mark asking her about her recent relocation and, in general, making small talk with her. By the time they reached the building’s lowest level, they were already on a first name basis.  
  
“Well, Buffy, I don’t see anything wrong here,” Wesley said several minutes later as he finished examining the fuse box before them. “Are you sure your entire apartment doesn’t have power? Maybe a bulb burned out, and you didn’t realize it.”  
  
“I’m positive,” she stated unequivocally. “Could you maybe just take another look just to be sure?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
With his hands busy as he inspected the fuses, the petite blonde pulled a water bottle from the pocket of her blue, hooded sweatshirt. Unscrewing the cap, she lunged towards her quarry, dumping the liquid all over his fingers, causing immediate sparks to shoot from the electrical box and onto the unsuspecting man. He was being electrocuted to death but was in too much pain to pull away. Eventually, he slumped to the floor, unconscious and un-alive, and she quickly finished setting the stage.  
  
After wiping her own prints off the cap and the water bottle, she momentarily placed them in Wesley’s burnt hands, effectively marking them to appear as if they were his own. The lid then went on top of the box and the bottle she dropped to the floor to make it seem like it had simply fallen off the box accidentally, carelessly, helping to electrocute the dark haired man. Once she was finished, she slipped silently out of the older building, already confident that she didn’t have to worry about security cameras or a doorman. It was just a shame that she had to waste such a good bottle of water. After all her hard work, she was feeling particularly parched.

_Sea lion woman_  
Dressed in blue  
Call on the man  
And hope he knows what he can do

Returning to her hotel room, Buffy immediately ordered room service, requesting both a large, strong, black coffee and a mug of tea. After her long flight in from England, her early morning tryst with Angel, and her full day of work, she was exhausted, and the small nap she had managed to sneak in while still with her first and original target had long since expired in its usefulness.  
  
Not only did she have to report in, but she also had to quickly figure out just what exactly she was going to report. If she told her father that three out of her four targets had already been eliminated, he would expect her back home quite sooner than her two weeks of time allotted, and, for the covert agent, that simply was not acceptable. However, she had never lied to her only living parent before, and she did not relish starting the habit now. Before this mission, she had never been tempted by dishonesty, and she had certainly never been drawn to her marks before, but there was something about Angel that she just couldn’t ignore.  
  
And she didn’t want to.  
  
There was also more to the story than what Giles had told her. As the owner and CEO of Wolfram and Hart, he had the unbelievably difficult task of managing the demon world present on earth. He protected both humans from evil and good demons from their evil counterparts by ridding the planet of those who wished to do harm. Granted, it was much more complicated than that, but Buffy didn’t care much for the details. She loved her father, her father was a good man, and all she had ever wanted to do since she was a little girl was help him, was make his life and job a little better, a little easier.  
  
So, that’s why she had become an agent for the insanely wealthy and powerful law firm. She was one of their operatives who were trained to eliminate every and all threats, and that’s why she had been sent to Los Angeles. According to Giles, Angel Investigations, comprised itself of two demons, had been thwarting their good intentions for years, and they needed to be stopped. That’s where she and her little trip had come into play… only Angel didn’t feel so evil. Sure, he was obviously a vampire like her father had told her, but he had also been upfront about his identity with her, and Buffy found herself wondering if maybe he had been duped, tricked into doing evil. While she knew Ripper’s intellect on the agency was accurate, she simply couldn’t accept the fact that the man she had slept with that morning was someone who really needed to be taken out. If nothing else, he was so strong, so dangerous, couldn’t his skills be harnessed and put to use for their team instead?  
  
Those were questions she was determined to find the answers to, but, in order to do that, she needed time. With her resolve firmly in place, she dialed a familiar number and bit her lip as she waited for the man that was both her father and her boss to pick up.  
  
“Buffy,” he offered in lieu of a proper greeting.  
  
“Ripper,” she returned. When she was calling for work, they spoke as professionals, not father and daughter.  
  
“I take it you’re calling to check in. Have you made any progress yet?”  
  
“I’ve made contact,” she revealed, “started my recon.”  
  
“I’m glad that you’re taking my warnings seriously, that you’re advancing cautiously. This is not just any regular assignment. These are qualified experts that you’re dealing with this time,” he repeated for what she believed to be probably, at least, the tenth time. Clearing his throat, he continued, “proceed forward, but, when you have a formal plan in mind, please run it past me first, is that understood?”  
  
“Of course,” she lied. With each passing untruth that slipped through her lips, the dishonesty became easier and easier. “I’ll talk to you in a few days.”  
  
“Yes, and please do be careful, Buffy.”  
  
“Always,” she replied. “Safety first, that’s my motto.”  
  
“If only it was, in fact,” her father mumbled before hanging up without further ado.

_Sea lion..._  
  
Sea lion woman  
She drink coffee  
She drink tea  
And a rooster crows  
  
Sea lion woman  
She drink coffee  
She drink tea  
And a rooster crows  
  
Sea lion woman  
Dressed in the blue  
Call on the man  
And hope he knows what he can do

She woke up the next morning in Angel’s bed, once again wearing his loose fitting, red dress shirt. The man beside her was still asleep, though, so she took the opportunity to study his face – his pale, powerful, possessive face. After knowing him for a little more than twenty-four hours, she knew that she was falling in love with him. Normally, such a realization would be cause for celebration. Normally, it would make her want to rouse the sleeping giant beside her and have her way with him. Again. But the conditions under which they were getting to know one another were nothing but normal.  
  
She was, for all intents and purposes, now a rogue, covert agent for Wolfram and Hart, although said law firm didn’t know yet that she had, in fact, gone rogue, and the mission she had gone astray on was the very same one that had sent her to Los Angeles to take out the very vampire sleeping beside her. Plus, there was also the pesky little detail that she had already removed the three threats that Angel otherwise referred to as his friends and coworkers. No, their relationship was anything but normal, and, if she wasn’t careful, she was going to end up getting them both killed.  
  
If she knew what was good for her, she would just end this thing between them right now. She’d finished off her assignment, stake Angel, and get the hell out of Dodge and back to England before she could further doubt both herself and her job. If she knew what was good for the dark haired man beside her, she would just run away, leaving him, her career, and her relationship with her father behind. But she wouldn’t, couldn’t do either smart option, and, instead, she was going to hope that less than two weeks was enough time to figure out her current mess of a life, and, if she couldn’t…? Well, in that case, she was going to make damn sure that the next twelve days were as satisfying as they possibly could be, going out with many, many bangs, so to speak. With that thought, she snuggled tighter into Angel’s embrace, smiled, and went back to sleep.

_Sea lion woman_  
Dressed in red  
Smile at the man  
When you wake up in his bed  
  
Sea lion woman....

**Author's Note:**

> Song Featured in this Story: "Sea Lion Woman" by Feist


End file.
